Immortality Built of Children's Pain
by CheerUpSleepyJean
Summary: In an old building out of the sun's reach, a group of children waits for a vistor to come and play. Who are they? Why are they here? Read, and discover the legend if you dare. Based on the Vocaloid song "Circle You, Circle You."
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Inspired by "Kagome, Kagome" and the Creepypasta for that song, here is a rewrite of that horrific story. I do not own Vocaloid, and the main authors of the original Creepypasta are Psybox and LOLSKELETONS. Read if you dare.**

Entry 1:  
Inside cold white walls, our chairs arranged in a circle, we listen intently to the NSDAP's leading medical researcher. Today, my fellow scientists and I will embark our journey into the depth of the human mind. As our project leader explains, our mission is to cure the brain of its inborn flaw: the need to die.  
"In theory, all human brains are equipped with what we call a 'kill switch,' which initiates a shutdown sequence of bodily functions during middle age. Over decades, the body continues to break down until death. This idea is supported by our research on Werner's Syndrome, which we have hypothesized to be the result of a kill switch activating too early."  
Slides flicker by on the projector, the dim slides barely visible under the bright hospital lighting. We view images of bisected skulls and soggy brains as the briefing continues.  
"Your duty henceforth is to locate the kill switch in the brain, and to find a way to safely remove it. The Nazi party will provide unlimited test subjects. Are there any questions?"  
One hand went up in the back.  
"Yes?"  
"Sir, won't the kill switch removal be ineffective if it has been activated, since the breakdown sequence will have already begun?"  
Our new leader shut off the projector with a small "click."  
"Indeed. That is why, for the purpose of avoiding this issue, all of your tests subjects will be children."

* * *

We began work in the former orphanage in the Black Forest. Our first shipment of children—subjects—are coming today. The project was delayed for thirty-six hours; my superiors had originally planned to use Jews, but determined at the last second that they were too delicate after their time in the camps, and would die in surgery. Fortunately for the project, our ally, Japan, has shipped in the offspring of rebellious citizens.  
I have chosen to record the names of the test subjects. After all, they will be the future of the world—the first to achieve immortality.  
They'll be legend:  
Yuki Kaai, age 5  
Neru Akita, age 9  
Luka Megurine, age 12  
Rin Kagamine, age 6  
Len Kagamine, age 6  
Gakupo Kamui, age 12  
Teto Kasane, age 7  
Meiko Sakine, age 10  
Haku Yowane, age 9  
Miku Hatsune, age 8  
Kaito Shion, age 12


	2. Chapter 2

Entry 2:  
Our first task—to locate the kill switch—has been underway for 58 hours. Despite numerous tests, no conclusive results have been obtained. The team is falling behind.

 _Location Test 1_  
 _Subject: Len Kagamine, age 6._  
 _Procedure: entered through the top of the head to obtain a horizontal cross-section of the upper half of the subject's brain._  
 _Comments: subject still useable. Procedure left subject retarded, but otherwise stable._  
 _Location Test 2_  
 _Subject: Haku Yowane, age 9_  
 _Procedure: entered through the jaw to obtain a horizontal cross-section of the lower half of the subject's brain._  
 _Comments: subject still useable. Jaw was broken beyond repair and sinuses are damaged, but subject is otherwise stable._  
 _Location Test 3_  
 _Subject: Meiko Sakine, age 10_  
 _Procedure: entered through the side of the head to obtain a vertical cross-section of the subject's brain._  
 _Comments: subject still useable. Procedure left subject deaf in one ear, but subject is otherwise stable._

Using existing cross-sections of adult brains, the team has run side-by-side tests on the samples tissue, looking for any minute difference. I agonize over the results, which are dismally similar.  
A piece of litmus paper labeled "Yowane—Cerebellum" catches my eye. The brain's chemicals have turned it a bright red. I grab the corresponding pH test from the adult brain, and hold both under the light. The litmus paper that was used to test the adult brain is just a shade darker.  
They're different.  
The information hits me like a bullet to the brain. Activating the kill switch would not be a conscious decision. It must be in the cerebellum!  
I leap to my feet and rush down the blindingly white hallway to the main laboratory. Breathlessly, I explain to my superior what I have found. He looks at me skeptically, but finally nods.  
"This project is already almost a day behind schedule. You have two hours to get conclusive proof. If nothing comes of this experiment, you will be dismissed from your post. Do I make myself clear?"  
I don't waste time in answering him. As quick as a falling guillotine blade, I round up a small group of fellow scientists, and we run to the locked room in which the subjects are kept.  
Hands joined to form a circle, the little ones sing a simple tune as they conjure up their oddest expressions, trying to get the kneeling figure in the middle to react. I break through the ring and grab the subject in the center.  
The subject—Yuki Kaai, age 5—pounds on me with little fists as we enter the surgical room. One of my fellow scientists heads toward the operating table, but I shake my head. There's not enough time.  
I grab three long, sharp surgical knives from a nearby drawer, and hand them to the others. One of them hesitates before accepting it, but then his frightened eyes meet my wild set, and he practically snatches it out of my hand.  
My fingers tangled in black locks of hair, I force the subject to kneel, and the others form a ring around us. The subject's hands fly up as steely blades swing through the air.  
Little fingers just brush the tips of black pigtails before the subject's head falls off.  
Motioning for my fellow scientists to take the body outside through the back door and dump it in the forest, I scoop up the head. Tears still drip from the glassy eyes, mixing with the blood spurting from the neck. I rush to the operating table, and begin roughly tearing the smooth skin and hacking at the skull. My colleagues return from disposing of the body, and I happen to glance outside before the door closes.  
A blood red moon shines on the forest.


	3. Chapter 3

Entry 3  
Just I had deduced, we found the kill switch structure lurking in the folds of the cerebellum. Immediately, our team began devising a safe removal procedure. After a practice run with the remains of the head, we deemed ourselves ready to attempt the surgery on a living patient.  
The first two subjects—Luka Megurine, age 12 and Miku Hatsune, age 8—upon which we operated became unstable during the procedure. Both expired before the surgery was finished, and had to be revived using electrical impulses.  
We quickly determined that the utmost delicacy and precision was required for the operation. Moving the point of entry from the back of the skull to the nape of the neck adjusted the angle at which we access the kill switch, and made it so we wouldn't have as much brain tissue through which to cut. The rest of the subjects faired much better during the procedure. We will run further tests once they have recovered from surgery.  
Now, we wait.

* * *

The subjects, though still bedridden, have awoken.  
I walk into the subject storage room to make sure their recoveries are on track. As I approach the nearest bunk, the subject—Neru Akita, age 9—looks up with rather blank eyes. Perhaps the subject is still groggy from the anesthetic.  
"When your grandmother died, did she leave you a gold watch?"  
The inquiry is made in crisp, fluent German.  
I stare at the subject in shock, fingering the timepiece in my pocket. After a split second, I dash out of the room, almost forgetting to lock the door in my haste. My mind is racing, trying to process this information.  
I must inform my superior immediately.

* * *

Despite the team's intentions to give the subjects' a few days to recover, we've been experimenting to test the boundaries of their newfound abilities. The results of the kill switch removals are better than I could have dreamed.

 _Post-Removal Test 1_  
 _Subject: Teto Kasane, age 7_  
 _Procedure: a random card from a standard deck was laid face-down on the table. Subject was asked to identify the card without turning it over. The experiment was repeated ten times. Subject correctly identified the card each time._  
 _Comments: not only were the subject's guesses accurate, but they were also made without hesitation or any discernible reaction._  
 _Post-Removal Test 2_  
 _Subject: Gakupo Kamui, age 12_  
 _Procedure: subject was blindfolded, and the team attempted to test bicep, brachioradialis, tricep, knee jerk, ankle jerk, and plantar reflexes with a rubber hammer. Subject grabbed the hammer before any blows could fall with every attempt._  
 _Comments: subject's movements were so fast that each limb appeared as a blur._  
 _Post-Removal Test 3_  
 _Subject: Rin Kagamine, age 6_  
 _Procedure: to test subject's clotting and injury recovery systems, as well as mental tolerance for pain, left arm was removed without anesthesia. Subject showed no reaction, and the stump began clotting on its own within minutes._  
 _Comments: the stump has been bandaged so as not to risk infection. Subject does not seemed to have suffered any ill mental affects, and asked rejoin the others immediately after the procedure was completed, saying (in German) "I want to play the game."_

Somehow, by eliminating mortality, we've allowed the brain to expand beyond the confines of humanity.  
Imagine the armies of Germany with these same abilities: they'll know the enemy's plans before the attack, they'll be able to withstand any injury, they'll move faster than the opposition can react.  
They'll be gods.


	4. Chapter 4

Entry 4  
Sliding the door open, I return the subject with whom I had just finished testing to the storage room. Inside, the subjects are once again walking in a circle around a kneeling figure. The very moment I enter, every head and gaze snaps to me. The little faces are empty, but not in a dreamy way; their eyes are as glassy as those of a corpse, and their mouths are twisted into eerie smiles. I cannot move.  
One of them—Luka Megurine, age 12—speaks up:  
"You should play our game."  
My paralysis ends, but I still find myself unable to speak. I shake my head instead. The disturbing expressions do not change, and the ring continues to spin. The subject now at the head of the circle—Meiko Sakine, age 12—whispers faintly.  
"You will play with us soon."  
My voice finally returns. Hesitantly, I tell them that I don't understand. Another subject—Rin Kagamine, age 6—replies.  
"Watch your children play. You should understand then."  
These words still echo in my head as I lock the facility up for the night, and keep replaying as I slowly drive home. In spite of my logical, rational self, I go to immediately to the window to watch my four sweet children, who are in the yard. Nothing looks particularly out of the ordinary.  
They're playing that same game, though, and for the life of me, I can't remember them having ever learnt it.

* * *

It is the last day of the project; tonight, the subjects will be shipped to Berlin. No longer bedridden, they've been very active as of late.  
Too active for my tastes.  
Gripping an escapee—Len Kagamine, age 6—firmly by the arm, I lead the subject back into the storage room, and swing open the door. A gust of wind and a blur of color rush past me, and now the room is empty. I turn, slow and steady, and sure enough, every single subject has gathered behind me. They smile—oh, those blank, eerie faces!—before dashing off at impossible speeds to other parts of the facility.  
Breathing hard, I give up, and walk back to the main laboratory to pack up the equipment. As I wheel the x-ray machine toward its crate in the corner, I feel a tug on my sleeve.  
"You should play our game."  
My heart jumps into my throat. With great effort, I manage to ignore the subject and continue working. Concentrating hard on my task, I methodically wash and dry a row of test tubes. Something giggles nearby; it takes all of my strength not to whip around and look for the source.  
I feel a sudden weight on my back, and drop the tube I was washing. A voice whispers in my ear.  
"Come play with us."  
With a shriek, I pry the little hands off my shoulders. Stumbling, I make a dash for the back door. When I slam it open, however, I see a silhouette blocking the doorway—a silhouette lacking a head.  
The figure enters the room, and I find that my initial impression was incorrect. It does have a head—a bloody, cracked one, stripped of most of its skin and moist with tears, tucked under its little arm.  
I back away, my legs trembling. Two small, cold, clammy hands grab one of mine, sucking the will and energy to protest from my body. I numbly allow myself to be pulled out of the laboratory, through the hall, and into the subject storage room.  
"Now, if you flinch, you lose."  
I kneel with on the floor as the subject that brought me here releases my hand, and joins the others in forming a ring around me. Hand in hand, they begin their awful chant.  
"Kagome, kagome..."  
Oh, God, the faces! Their features contort grotesquely, like their heads are rotting, collapsing, melting,  
"Ushiro no shoumen daare?"  
And the song! I can feel every note ringing in my ears, in my very brain.  
I can't take it anymore. My face twists in pain as I cower on the floor.  
The chanting suddenly stops, and all I can hear is my rapid heartbeat. Cautiously, I raise my head. Directly in front of me is Miku Hatsune, age 8. She stares at me dully for a moment. Then, a horrible smile carves itself onto her face, and she pulls a long, bloodstained operating knife from behind her back.  
"You've lost the game."


End file.
